


Lollipop

by jojothecr



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Written in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojothecr/pseuds/jojothecr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Jensen is sick...</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lollipop

Shaking his head to chase the water off his hair and eyes, Jared pushes the flat, silver key into the hole of the front door. He can feel the small drops, quite warm but still wet, rolling down his back and chest, leaving soaked stains through his thin T-shirt. The sun’s rays lurk tentatively out of their hiding place behind the dark, heavy clouds and run their fervent fingers across Jared’s back, as if trying to atone for the natural shower that had surprised him in the middle of his walk from the grocery.

“Too late,” Jared comments as he walks in and closes the door behind himself with a soft click. “Jen?” He calls out, keeping his voice low in case Jensen’s asleep; he should be, but Jared sincerely doubts it. There’s no response, just the distant sound of the TV.

Jared tightens his grip on the paper bag he’s carrying and leans against the wall for support as he toes off his shoes. He kicks them off across the hallway and then stops shifting them with his foot back to the wall, neatly beside each other, knowing that Jensen would make him do that anyway and he might just as well spare them the needless fight. He walks through the sunlit corridor into the kitchen.

Once there he finds that the soft murmur that has caught his attention isn’t the TV, or the radio, but his best friend, boyfriend and so much more all in one amazing package called Jensen.

He stands at the window, probably watching the dogs play on the slippery grass in the backyard, or to watch the dance of the raindrops against the sunlight that reflects on the horizon as a colourful rainbow.  
He’s got headphones in his ears and his song-overloaded iPod in the back pocket of his sweatpants. He sings along with Mika, moving his hips lightly to the rhythm of the song Jared had smuggled in between his favourite bands a few weeks ago. (A few times with a slightly different title, making it a little bit difficult to skip.)

Jensen’s throat is still sore from the flu, not allowing him to sing aloud, but despite the roughness, his voice is oddly soothing. And maybe even a little addicting. It’s different from the growl he uses to create Dean, not only when he sings – off key, as the script requires – but also in casual speaking. Jensen’s real voice is quieter and more smooth, rolling like a river of honey.

He really can sing too, and everybody knows that. Well, everybody but Jensen.

Grinning, Jared puts the bag on the closest wooden chair carefully, trying to be as unseen and quiet as possible, not wanting to break the peaceful scene in front of his eyes. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest, watching Jensen in one of the very rare moments when he’s not an actor and not rock-solid Dean, just Jensen. His Jensen.

The Jensen who’s wearing a worn, low riding sweatpants and faded red T-shirt. The Jensen who can get attacked with flu in the middle of a nearly tropical summer. Jensen, who doesn’t need to pretend he’s someone he’s not. Who doesn’t have to fake a smile, when smiling is the last thing he wants to do.

During the first days of shooting, maybe the first moment they met, Jared noticed that Jensen does this often. He hides and pretends; shows people what they want to see. It’s like a bubble that he’s created around himself to keep people at a comfortable distance. A way to keep his secrets and personal life for himself. He acts like that mostly in public, in front of the insistent lens of cameras, but sometimes even in private; among his friends, with Jared. He doesn’t seem to even realize that he does it.

They’ve lived together for a while now; months, years, a whole eternity, or a few days… who’d count that... (Okay, so Jared would and he knows, exactly how many months and weeks and days, but that’s not important.) But there are still moments when Jared catches Jensen drifting away, hiding behind the walls he’s built around himself and looking surprised when Jared drags him back out from behind there.

It’s one of the many rules Jensen’s unwittingly picked up on his way through show business. Just another rule that Jared has refused to accept.

Smiling, Jared pulls away from the door and walks quietly to Jensen, who seems to be absolutely fascinated with the performance unwinding in front of the windows and too caught up in the music to sense the change in the air or the giant coming up from behind.

“ _Take a look at the girl next door_ ,” he keeps singing softly, undisturbed by the shadow hovering upon the walls beside him. “ _She’s a player and a downright bore. Jesus loves her, she wants more, oh, bad girls get you down…_ ”

“Bad boys too.” Jared adds against Jensen’s ear as his arms circle his slim waist and Jensen yelps.

“Shit,” Jensen sighs with relief when Jared’s laughter fills the small room, then he wipes the ever-present droplets of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“No, no,” Jared protests, stealing one earphone from Jensen and putting it into his own ear. “ _Say love_ ,” he insists, singing – off key, because he can’t do it otherwise – and bends his knees a little to fit his body against Jensen’s.

“ _Say love_ ,” he repeats as the song keeps rolling, swaying to the rhythm and forcing Jensen’s body to follow. “ _Oh, love’s gonna get you down. Say love…_ ”

“ _Say love…_ ” Jensen joins, smiling despite himself and relaxing into the firm warmth behind him. “ _Oh, love’s gonna get you down_.”

Jared’s hand slides up Jensen’s waist and underneath his T-shirt, his long fingers splay across Jensen’s stomach, cooling the burning skin. He pulls the earphone out again and takes the other one from Jensen, setting the iPod aside, while nosing the sensitive skin under Jensen’s ear.

“You’re soaking wet,” Jensen complains, even when his body itches spontaneously to be closer to Jared’s.

“Rain tends to do that to most people.” Jared points out, resting his chin on Jensen’s shoulder, barely aware of the water drops still dripping from his hair and upon Jensen’s fever ridden skin.

Jensen hisses at the chilling sensation. “You don’t say.”

“Hmm.” Jared murmurs against Jensen’s neck, smelling the coconut shampoo he washed Jensen’s hair with last night, despite Jensen’s argument that he’s ill, not a fucking invalid. When the tiled floor shifted beneath his feet, black spots darkened his vision and he fell into the strong embrace of Jared’s arms, he didn’t say any other word against it. He just mumbled the fever is a bitch, which Jared could only agree with.

Jared’s fingers brush Jensen’s cheek gently, tilting his head up and to the side to place a butterfly kiss upon his hot, chapped lips.

Frowning at the touch, Jensen turns in Jared’s arms to face him and places his palms on his chest, keeping him at distance.

“You’ll get sick,” he warns him, blinking in confusion at the far-away look shading Jared’s face. “Jared?”

Jared doesn’t respond, too lost in mapping Jensen’s face with his eyes and wondering how he manages to look so damn good even with the sickness rocketing through his body that makes it ooze with heat.

Jensen’s short hair is still wild and dishevelled from the pillow that has also left a few mild, zigzag lines on his unshaved cheeks. His face is flushed with the fever that has brought up the coalition of his gentle freckling and a fine sheet of sweat covers his forehead and chest, making his skin glow. His eyes behind the old, abraded spectacles are glassy, deeper and a darker shade of emerald green. His nose is raw and his lips swollen, but he’s still the most beautiful man Jared has ever seen. Maybe because he’s gotten to see what’s hidden inside, which is even a little more beautiful than Jensen’s handsome face.

Sometimes, like now, Jared just wants to wrap his arms around this man and not let go, keeping him safe and far away from the dangers of the world. It’s not like Jensen can’t take care of himself, although in Jared’s opinion he should appreciate the fact he’s alive maybe a bit more, it’s just that when he’s sick or hurt or alone among strangers he looks so damn young and vulnerable.

Jensen sneezes into the accrued silence without the slightest warning, surprising not even himself, but also Jared and dragging him finally off his moodiness.

“You’ll get sick,” Jensen repeats, not sure if Jared was mentally present the first time.

It’s like talking to a brick wall though, because Jared only presses his mouth more urgently against Jensen’s and pushes his tongue in between his lips, moaning quietly at the silk fire that greets him. His fingers slip into Jensen’s sweaty hair and to the small of his back, pulling him closer, as if unable to get enough, close enough.

Jensen’s eyes widen with surprise at the sudden incursion and then fall closed as the heat Jared’s pouring into the kiss blazes out through his body. His fingers curl in Jared’s T-shirt and he sighs, opening up to him, totally forgetting he’s sick and supposed to keep away.  
Jared places his hands on Jensen’s narrow hips and walks them backward, until Jensen’s back collides with the kitchen unit.

“Missed you.” He breathes out, as he pulls away.

Jensen opens his eyes, panting. “You weren’t gone for more than forty minutes,” he objects.

“Still missed you,” Jared grins and Jensen smiles.

The pure, gentle smile that makes Jared want to just blurt out ‘I love you,’ even when he knows it’s not what Jensen wants to hear graces Jensen’s lips.

‘Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,’ Jensen used to say regarding that statement. Maybe it was his belief talking, maybe some experience he didn’t want to talk about, but it was driving Jared crazy. It took so long to convince him, make Jensen believe that he means it every single time, even when it’s a hundred times a day.

“I love your smile,” Jared says instead, which is close but not quite the same. “You should smile more often.”

Jensen blushes, as he always does, and the shadows of his eyelashes sweep across his cheeks, when he looks away from Jared’s intense gaze and down to the floor.

Jared grins, not for the first time wondering how somebody as shy as Jensen can be such a wonderful actor. But maybe it’s just the other way around, because he’s never that bashful or nervous when he plays; he loses himself and hides inside his character, inside someone else.

Jared put his fingers on Jensen’s chin, making him look at him. “And I love how you keep blushing all the time.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and punches Jared into the shoulder, “Shut up.”

“Alright,” Jared grins against Jensen’s lips, capturing them in a long, playful kiss. His fingers grip Jensen’s hips tighter and he lifts him up and onto the counter. Jensen gasps in surprise, nearly biting Jared’s tongue in half.

He pulls away, looking up at Jared with wide eyes, “Are you crazy?!”

Jared nods, grinning woozily and tracing Jensen’s full bottom lip with the tip of his finger. “In love.”

Jensen shakes his head amusedly and reaches out to push Jared’s wild, drenched hair behind his ears. His fingers slip down, following the protruding line of his jaw.  
“It’s still a wonder you haven’t gotten the flu yet, with the way you can’t keep your hands and mouth to yourself.”

Jared steps closer to Jensen, resting in between his spread legs. His hands slip back underneath Jensen’s T-shirt and his hot breath washes over his ear. “You didn’t seem to mind the other night when you were hogging the blanket for yourself and pressing your heated body into mine.”

“It was freaking cold,” Jensen protests vehemently, gripping the hem of Jared’s T-shirt to keep him in place.

“It wasn’t, it was just you having a fever.” Jared’s hands fall lower, sliding behind the waistband of Jensen’s loose sweatpants; goose bumps follow the line of his fingernails and Jensen shivers. Jared leans back, just to see Jensen’s eyes falling closed for a few seconds. “And you so should be in the bed right now.” Jared’s voice seeps with concern, but the look in his eyes is everything but innocent.

“Your pick up lines never fail to amaze me,” Jensen grins. “Seriously, Jay.”

“I’m serious, Jen. You may think it’s just the flu, but nothing is ‘just’. Even the flu. It ‘s obtrusive and can be pretty dangerous.”

“Right, it can cause a heart attack.” Jensen pats Jared’s shoulder apprehensively, grinning. “Another thing you’ve got in common.”

“I’m wounded,” Jared rolls his lips, before biting a gentle punishment into Jensen’s neck. “Come to bed,” he whispers a second later.

“It’s boring.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Jared winks with a wide, dimpled smile.

“I’ve just left it.”

“And you shouldn’t have.”

Jensen lowers his eyes to the floor, playing guilty. “Sorry Mom.”

“You may want to change your mind,” Jared pronounces mystically as he pulls away, leaving Jensen to sit among the drying cups and plates from their breakfast, atop today’s newspapers and mail.

“Why?” Jensen asks, dangling his bare feet lazily; looking and sounding so child-like Jared has to smile. He stops in the middle of turning away and leans back to Jensen. He reaches out, following and connecting the freckles upon the bridge of Jensen’s nose and laughs when Jensen crosses his eyes to follow his path. Jared shrugs his shoulders instead of an answer and then places a light kiss on the tip of Jensen’s nose.

He resumes his previous plan, grabbing the paper bag as he starts walking from the kitchen.

“I’ve got ice-cream,” he yells, disappearing down the hall.  
His voice reverberates off the framed photographs of their families and friends and Jared’s dogs, hanging upon the peach-coloured wall.

“So?” Jensen calls after him, faking a lack of interest although his overheating body practically screams for the cold candy that is slowly but surely being carried away.

Jared stops at the bedroom door and looks back at Jensen before he’s able to wipe the pout of his kiss-swollen lips. He laughs at his momentarily-six-year-old boyfriend and reaches for the dewy brown paper cup, waving with it above his head. “It’s chocolate!”

Letting out an overpowered sigh and shaking his head at his own defeat Jensen jumps off the counter and grabs two plastic teaspoons from the top drawer.  
“No fair,” he mumbles, padding after Jared.


End file.
